Stealing From The Sheikh (The Sheikh's American Love 2)

“It’s the same in Vegas,” Riley observed. “So many bright lights you can’t see the stars at all.” She sighed happily, warm and full of delicious food, contented from closeness with Mansour in a way that she knew was dangerous—but couldn’t help. “The only times I ever saw the stars—I mean, other than like, the planetarium or something—was when we went camping.”

“There are a lot of beautiful places in my country that aren’t so developed,” Mansour said. “My family’s estates—some of them are deep in the countryside, and at night you can see every single star in the sky.”

“It seems to me like you could have just stayed there,” Riley said cautiously. “All the money you could ever want, power, comfort…”

“Power, yes,” Mansour said. “But responsibility as well. My father is a very powerful man in Al Mukhtar; involved in the oil industry… As the eldest son, I was supposed to succeed him in the business empire, but I never had any interest in it. I have no interest in oil; I like movies.”

Riley grinned. “So you gave up the responsibility for one business empire for another,” she pointed out. “You’re an executive producer—you used to be the sole owner of a production company.”

“I don’t want to sound like I’m whining—I know I grew up with a great deal more than anyone could ever need,” Mansour said slowly. “But I kind of lucked out when it came to my own wealth. I never really wanted it—I wasn’t looking for it, you know?”

“You may not be in a position to appreciate it,” Riley said, thinking of the strained moments in her childhood when one of her parents worried about losing their jobs, or when there wasn’t enough money to pay for a field trip. “But money is a really good thing to have.”

“It’s nice to have some,” Mansour agreed. “But I’m aware that having this much money can be dangerous. I’ve seen too many people ruined by the doors that this kind of wealth opens up.”

“But you don’t seem to have gone that way,” Riley countered. “At least, not unless there’s something you’ve neglected to tell me about your past.” Mansour chuckled.

“It could easily have gone that way—particularly when I went to college and found freedom like I’d never experienced before. Luckily, I was too invested in making movies and starting my business.” He went quiet for a moment, and then spoke again. “The only reason I started my first company—the one Wonder bought out—was because I wanted to get my own animation work out into the world, and it made the most sense to do it that way. Now that I’m nothing more than an executive…” he sighed. “I lost the one thing that made me abandon home and family in the first place.” He lapsed into silence again, and Riley turned her head to look at his profile in the darkness.

Throughout the time they’d been together, Riley had felt her defenses coming down gradually; she had set herself to remain absolutely untouched by Mansour’s charm—only to find him sweeter, kinder, more considerate than she had even known him to be from their first date together. The fact that he trusted her so much, that he was willing to confess something so deeply personal to her, brought down the last of Riley’s reservations. On impulse, she turned over, moving closer to him in the moonlight.

She found his face by touch and pulled herself up against his body, leaning in and bringing her lips down onto his. Riley shivered slightly as Mansour began to respond to the kiss, swiping his tongue along her lips, his arms wrapping around her waist. Riley trembled against him as the kiss intensified, her whole body heating up every nerve tingling. Riley lost all track of time as she kissed Mansour more and more passionately in the darkness, shifting against him as their embrace continued.

Riley broke away from Mansour’s lips only when she became so breathless she felt dizzy, sliding into a sprawl on the pallet next to him. Mansour kept one arm draped around her, holding her body close to his as they both struggled for a moment to catch their breath.

“I don’t want to say anything that might scare you away,” Mansour said, his voice still slightly hoarse from desire. “So please—don’t be frightened. But I have to tell you; even though we’ve only been on two dates, I feel like I’m falling for you.”

Riley smiled in the silvery moonlight, turning her head to look up into Mansour’s eyes. She felt a stab of guilt—remembering Alex’s spies, the threat he’d made about how he had ears everywhere. Riley hoped against hope that he hadn’t found a way to get someone onto Mansour’s yacht crew.

“I feel the same way,” she said quietly, unsure if she was more exhilarated or terrified.

FIFTEEN

As Riley prepared to go home from another day of filming—one in which she had actually performed in front of the camera—her thoughts spun in circles, torn between her delight in getting to know Mansour and her guilty resentment towards Alex. She had been seeing Mansour once or twice a week for a few weeks, and as their relationship had progressed, she had started spending time with him for a few minutes at a time on set as well—though he was so busy that Riley knew he was stealing time away from other things to talk to her when he did.

At first, Alex had been pleased with the bits of information she’d been able to give him: things Mansour had said on their dates, things he mentioned in passing in their brief conversations on set. She had told Alex about Mansour’s frustrations with the director, about a dispute that Mansour had had to settle between two of the starring actors—not generally an executive producer’s job, but something Mansour had taken upon himself.

But just that morning, before she’d even left the apartment to drive to the sound stage, Alex had called her. Riley had considered letting it roll over to voicemail; she had no interest in having any more to do with Alex than she had to. But she knew that if she didn’t answer he’d just keep calling her until he did.

“What do you want now?” she’d asked as soon as the call connected.

“Don’t sound so sullen,” Alex had told her sharply. “You’re getting everything anyone could possibly want out of our little arrangement—a little gratitude would be nice.”

“It’s four in the morning, I’m tired, and oh yeah—I’m being blackmailed. Forgive me if I’m not in the most grateful of moods right now.”

“The stuff you’ve been giving me isn’t enough,” Alex had said firmly. “We need something that can take the whole production down, not just piddling little rumors and intrigues.”

“I told you weeks ago that I wasn’t in any position to give you anything worthwhile,” Riley had protested, remembering just what kind of leverage Alex had on her.

“I don’t buy that,” Alex had told her. “You’re seeing the executive producer—there’s got to be something. If you don’t come up with the goods soon I’m going to have to consider how to make it happen myself.”

Alex had hung up after that, leaving Riley reeling with the thought of just what he would do to manufacture his own takedown.

She had spent most of the day worrying about how she could satisfy Alex’s demand, while somehow buffering Mansour from the outcome. It was impossible; there was no way to take down the production without Mansour being affected. As Riley walked out to her car at the end of the day, guilty and morose, she reminded herself that Mansour had said that he didn’t even like the excess or care about the wealth he had accumulated.

“Screw it,” she muttered to herself as soon as she closed the car door. “If I don’t mess things up for Mansour, Alex will show everyone that recording, and then my career will be over.”

She sighed, turning the key in the ignition and resigning herself to figuring out some way to bring the production down. She knew for a fact that if Mansour ever found out that she was the cause of Galaxy Wars 3 going down, that would be the end of everything between them. I’m going to end up losing him either way, but at least if I do this Alex’s way I might be able to scrape together a career in the aftermath.

Almost as soon as she parked in her designated spot by her apartment building, Riley’s phone rang. She sighed, thi

nking it was probably Alex, calling to remind her that she still owed him something capable of bringing down the production. “Might as well answer it,” she said to herself, reaching into her purse. Looking at her phone, her eyes widened in surprise; it wasn’t Alex, it was Mansour.

“Hard day of filming today,” Mansour said as soon as Riley had answered the phone. “I’m probably being a jerk to ask you to drive over, but what do you say to dinner at my place?”

Riley’s heart beat faster; she hadn’t yet been to Mansour’s apartment in the course of their budding relationship—but mingled with her excitement at the prospect of being alone with him was her dread at how getting closer and more intimate with Mansour would spur Alex to demand more and more of her. I just won’t tell him. He can’t have people everywhere. He can’t hear everything. By the time Alex found out about the date, Riley would have come up with some way to defer his demands.

“Give me maybe thirty minutes to clean up, and I’ll come right over,” Riley told Mansour.